


First Date

by ashfalldown



Series: Joan & The Amis [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Single Dad Grantaire, Teacher Enjolras, marius/cosette is like background and barely there but still?, tfw too lazy to think of a restaurant name so the musain makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashfalldown/pseuds/ashfalldown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire's first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Date

**Author's Note:**

> I got kind of lazy editing this so half of it might be terrible (sorry), also? for some reason i kept picturing madame hucheloup as italian so it might come off that way? but anyway pls enjoy these nerds on their first date thank

“I can’t do this.” Grantaire looked despairingly into his closet. “I can’t do it. What the hell was I thinking?”

“You can do it, R,” Cosette said from the doorway. She and Marius had come to babysit Joan while Grantaire went on the first date he’d had in longer than he liked to admit. “It’ll be fine. You’ll go out, you’ll eat, you’ll talk, and then you’ll come home. It’s nothing to get worked up about.”

“What if it all goes horribly wrong?” he asked as she stepped into the room. “And then I have to see him all the time because god knows Joan isn’t going to stop causing trouble, and it’ll be between us forever, this awful, horrible date, and…”

“And what if it goes well?” Cosette interrupted.

“Oh, sure, it goes well and then Joan gets made fun of because her dad’s dating the teacher and they call her the teacher’s pet, and she’ll think Enjolras is only being nice to her because he’s my boyfriend, and she – “

“ _Grantaire_.” Cosette was laughing now. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. It’s one date, it’s not marriage. And as for Joan, look at the way she handled being told about the date. She’s a very smart, very mature little girl. Besides, she’s got, what – three, four months left with Enjolras as her teacher? Whichever way this date goes, I’m sure you’ll all be able to deal with it.”

She was right, of course. Grantaire had always tried to be honest with Joan, so as soon as his date with Enjolras had been finalised, he’d sat her down and told her that he and her teacher would be having dinner together. After the initial _‘Daddy, ew, he’s my **teacher**_ ,’ her only concern had been who would be looking after her.

“But I have nothing to _wear_!” Grantaire flopped face first onto his bed. “I’m not going.” His voice was muffled by the mattress. “Call and tell him I’m sick, I’m not – ”

“You’re going,” Cosette said sternly. She marched over to the closet, rummaging through the mess determinedly until she found something acceptable. “Here.” She tossed him a pair of jeans, a dark grey dress shirt, and his favourite leather jacket. “Shower. Get dressed. Date the teacher. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” Grantaire muttered as he gathered up his clothes. “You’ve been with Marius _forever._ You don’t remember what it’s like to be out there, dating. _Alone.”_

Cosette rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s terrifying,” she said unsympathetically. “Get in the shower. Don’t make me come back up here,” she said warningly.

Grantaire saluted sarcastically. “Yes ma’am,” he said, stepping around her to enter the bathroom.

His relaxed marginally as he entered the shower, something about the familiar routine of getting ready calming his nerves considerably. By the time he stepped out from under the water he’d started to feel a lot better about the prospect of being out on a real date. A real date with _Enjolras_.

“It’s fine,” he told himself in the mirror as he shaved. “It’s absolutely fine. Nothing to worry about, just two adults eating a meal together. No big deal,” he muttered to himself, over and over. By the time he was clean shaven he was finally convinced.

“R!” Marius called from downstairs. “He’s here!”

Butterflies erupted in his stomach. He’d been wrong. He couldn’t do this. God, there was no way he could do this.

“ _Move it.”_ Cosette was in his doorway again, glaring as she held out a pair of brown boots.

“But – “

“Now.” Cosette herded Grantaire out of his room and down the stairs, hitting him with his boots as he walked. “Don’t keep your date waiting.”

“ _Ow.”_ Grantaire glared over his shoulder at her. “I’m going, okay, I’m go – ”

He stopped short as they neared the bottom of the stairs. Enjolras stood in the doorway, talking to Marius and Joan. He gave Grantaire a shy, almost nervous smile. “Hi.”

Grantaire returned his smile. “Hi.”

“Ready to go?” Enjolras asked.

“Almost.” Grantaire sat down and pulled his shoes on, not taking his eyes off the blonde in the doorway. Shoes on, he stood and grabbed his keys, phone and wallet off the counter, shoving them in his pockets as he headed for the door.

“Be good for Uncle Marius,” he said, bending down to kiss the top of Joan’s head. “And you.” He straightened up to face Marius. “You try not to break anything.”

Marius threw his hands up, exasperated. “You knock a flower pot over _once…_ ”

Grantaire laughed. “Ring me if there’s any trouble,” he said. “We won’t be back too late.”

“We’ll be fine.” Cosette stepped forward, her eyes warning Grantaire to stop stalling. “Have a good night.”

Joan hugged Grantaire tightly. “Have fun Daddy.” She peered around him to Enjolras. “Have him home by ten,” she said, exactly like Marius had told her to.

Marius couldn’t control his laughter, stopping only when Cosette punched him in the am. Enjolras, to Grantaire’s relief, was laughing too.

“Should we go?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire nodded.

“Nice to meet you,” Enjolras said politely to Marius and Cosette.

“You too,” Cosette smiled.

“Behave,” Grantaire warned Joan, knowing full well how much of a pushover Marius could be. She smiled sweetly in return, before Cosette swung the door closed.

An awkward silence hung between the pair as they headed for Enjolras’ car. Grantaire cleared his throat.

“You look nice,” he said. ‘Nice’ was an understatement. Enjolras was wearing tan dress pants and a tight blue sweater that made his eyes seem brighter, even beneath the glasses he wore. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh.” Enjolras reached up to touch the frames, like he’d forgotten he was wearing them. “Yeah. I usually wear contacts, but…” He blushed as he trailed off, wondering if Grantaire preferred him without glasses.

Grantaire smiled at him. “They suit you,” he said, as they reached the car. “You should wear them more often. If you want to, I mean.”

Enjolras blushed harder as he unlocked the car. He slid into the driver’s seat quickly, trying to hide his growing smile.

“You look nice too, by the way,” Enjolras said as Grantaire settled into the passenger’s seat.

Grantaire grinned. “I thought I might wear something not covered in paint,” he joked.

“And what a good decision,” Enjolras replied.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Grantaire asked, as Enjolras drove off.

Enjolras smiled secretively. “No,” he said. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

Grantaire groaned playfully. “I never should have agreed to let you pick the restaurant.”

“Well you can’t change your mind now.” Enjolras switched the radio on. “Just relax.”

It wasn’t until Enjolras had said the word that Grantaire realised that was exactly what he’d done. Once they’d gotten into the car, it was like all his nerves had disappeared.  He was surprised at how quickly he felt at ease with Enjolras, especially in the confines of Enjolras’ tiny car.

“So,” Enjolras said. “You know what I do for a living, obviously. What about you?”

“Isn’t this the kind of small talk we’re supposed to save for our date?” Grantaire teased.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Unless I’m mistaken, our date started when I picked you up. So? Wait, let me guess. You’re an artist.”

Grantaire laughed. “I wish I could make a living from art alone. Making art is mostly saved for my spare tie t the moment.”

“So in your regular time?”

“I own a couple of art shops,” Grantaire told him. “Well,” he corrected himself. “Co-own. They’re only small, but you’d be surprised at how much business comes in.”

“With an owner like you, I doubt I’d be surprised,” Enjolras replied before he could think. He blushed as he realised how it sounded. “I, um, I just meant that… Look, we’re here.”

Grantaire peered up at the building in front of them. “A café?”

“Don’t let the name fool you,” Enjolras told him as they got out of the car. “Café Musain is the best restaurant I’ve ever been to.”

Grantaire shrugged. “It _would_ be wrong of me not to trust a teacher,” he said, trailing Enjolras towards the entrance.

Enjolras held the door open for him as they stepped into the restaurant. It was smaller than it looked from the outside – cosy and homely, with booths and tables scattered through the room. It felt more like a family home than a restaurant, and Grantaire loved it.

“Enjolras!” A plump, older woman bustled out of the kitchen, reaching up to place two loud, wet kisses on each of Enjolras’ cheeks. “We haven’t seen you in so long!”

Enjolras was smiling as he returned her kisses. “I’ve been busy,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

The woman waved off his apology as she noticed Grantaire. “And who is this?” she asked slyly.

“This is my friend Grantaire,” Enjolras introduced them.

“Nice to meet you,” Grantaire said before stumbling back, unprepared for the kisses the woman placed on his cheeks.

“Handsome,” she noted slyly, turning to wink at Enjolras. “Now I see why you haven’t come by lately.”

Grantaire enjoyed watching Enjolras blush.

“Come,” the woman beckoned them, leading them to a booth in the corner of the room. “Sit. I’ll be back with your food.”

“But we haven’t – ” Grantaire started to protest. “ – ordered,” he finished as she hurried off, ignoring him. “Is she always like that?”

Enjolras laughed. “Almost always,” he said. “You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” he asked, panic flitting across his face.

Grantaire shook his head. “Completely allergy free.”

“Good,” Enjolras nodded happily. “No matter what she brings out, you’ll love it.”

“I’m sure,” Grantaire said. Impulsively he leaned across the table and placed his hand over Enjolras’. “This place is incredible, by the way.”

Enjolras beamed. “I told you.”

“How’d you find it?” Grantaire asked, taking his hand back as a waiter arrived with a basket of breadsticks. He resisted the urge to smile at the look of disappointment on Enjolras’ face as he did.

“I used to work here, actually,” Enjolras told him hesitantly, uncertain what Grantaire’s reaction would be. Immediately he started to doubt himself for bringing Grantaire here, to the Musain of all places on their very first date. With the history he had with this place, it was practically the same as taking him home to meet his parents.

Grantaire didn’t look at him the way he’d feared, no hint of confusion or fear of moving too fast evident on his face. He raised one eyebrow interestedly as he grabbed for a breadstick. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “For a couple of years while I was studying.”

“I guess that explains the warm welcome,” Grantaire smiled. He couldn’t help but be touched that this was the place Enjolras had wanted to take him for their first date. He could have picked anywhere – truly, Grantaire would have been happy spending time with him in the parking lot of McDonalds, but he’d chosen this place, a place that clearly meant something to him.

Enjolras smiled fondly. “Yeah,” he said. “Madame always took care of me. Of all of us, really. Gave me the room upstairs when I needed a place to stay, always made sure that I was fed and happy, regardless of how much I tried to protest.”

“And I was happy to do it,” the woman – Enjolras’ Madame, interrupted them as she arrived, bearing two bowls laden with pasta. “There’s no better boy on earth than this one right here.” She stared straight into Grantaire’s eyes as she placed their food down in front of them. “You better take good care of him, or – ”

“ _Mère,”_ Enjolras hissed, to her great amusement.

“Okay, okay,” she raised her hands innocently. “I know when I’m not wanted. Eat,” she instructed before making her way back to the kitchen, giggling.

“Sorry,” Enjolras apologised. Grantaire waved his words off.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s nice. I’m glad you brought me here.” He took a bite of the pasta in front of him, and _moaned_. “Oh, my _god_ , I am _so_ glad you brought me here. What is this?”

Enjolras, still trying to recover from the unexpected thrill of hearing Grantaire moaning, was glad for the excuse to look elsewhere. He peered into the bowl, not at all surprised at what he found. “Seafood pasta,” he informed Grantaire. “My favourite thing on the menu. I should have known that’s what she’d bring us.”

“Well you,” Grantaire said, trying to figure out how to remain attractive to Enjolras while simultaneously eating as much pasta as he could. “Have very good taste.”

“I like to think so,” Enjolras said quietly, more to himself than anything. He cleared his throat. “Do you want something to drink?” he offered. “Wine, or beer, or – ” He stopped as he noticed the look on Grantaire’s face.

“Um,” Grantaire swallowed hard, and coughed. “Just water, thanks. I don’t really drink.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras apologised. “I didn’t…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Grantaire said as Enjolras signalled a waiter. “It’s just…” he hesitated, debating how much he should tell Enjolras. He didn’t want to scare him off, but at the same time, Enjolras had shared at least some of his past with him. Besides, it was best to get these things out of the way earlier.

 “I used to have a problem. Drinking,” he clarified. “When Joan came along, I realised – with the help of a few friends, that I couldn’t keep living the life that I had been, that I had to give it up. I’ve been sober her whole life.”

Enjolras nodded understandingly. “That’s quite a sacrifice,” he said sympathetically.

Grantaire shook his head. “It was either alcohol or my daughter,” he said. “Not exactly a hard choice.”

Enjolras paused to request water from the waiter who sidled up to their table.

“Still,” Enjolras said, once he’d returned with their drinks. “It couldn’t have been easy.”

“No,” Grantaire admitted. “It wasn’t. But all I’d have to do on the days I thought about giving up was look at that little girl, and somehow it just seemed easier. And it just kept getting easier. I barely even think about it now.”

Enjolras stared at the man in front of him, trying his very hardest not to leap across the table and kiss the hell out of him. It was hard to rationalise what it was about Grantaire that had made him want to bring him to the Café Musain, the place he’d never once brought a date, the one place he’d always kept for himself. But there had been something – something within him that had known, however irrational it was, that Grantaire had been the one he’d been waiting for. And now, watching him talk about his daughter with nothing but love in his eyes, Enjolras knew he’d made the right choice.

“What?” Grantaire asked, too conscious of Enjolras’ eyes on him.

“Nothing,” Enjolras said, averting his eyes quickly. He knew he had a tendency to get too intense, too attached, too fast, and he was determined not to screw this up. “I was just thinking that you’re a really great dad.”

“Well,” Grantaire said, desperate to change the serious nature of the conversation. “It helps when your kid has such great influences.”

Enjolras grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” he asked, also grabbing the opportunity to lighten the mood.

“I hope so,” Grantaire joked. “But it has been a while since my last date, so my skills might be a little rusty.”

“Trust me,” Enjolras told him. “They’re fine.”

Grantaire looked pleased with himself as he finished off his pasta. Almost immediately, the woman appeared to take their empty bowls, and replace them with dessert.

Grantaire looked over his enormous slice of chocolate cake at Enjolras. “She’s kidding, right?” he asked, amused.

Madame Hucheloup shushed him. “I never joke about cake,” she told him. She disappeared and reappeared with two cups of coffee. “Enjoy,” she smiled, before taking off again.

“Another favourite of yours?” Grantaire asked Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded. “But I’ve never had such a big piece before,” he said, grinning over at Grantaire. “She must like you.”

Grantaire laughed. “Well, you can’t blame her.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Right.”

“Seriously though,” Grantaire said. “There’s no way I can eat all of this without exploding.”

“I would rather my date didn’t explode,” Enjolras said agreeably, frowning as Grantaire started to grin. “What?”

“Wait here,” Grantaire said, already halfway out of his seat. “I have an idea.” He was on his way towards the kitchen before Enjolras could even ask why.

“Madame?” Grantaire called as he approached. She poked her head out of the door and grinned.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“I was wondering if we’d be able to take our dessert to go,” Grantaire said. “It’s just,” he continued hurriedly, at the hint of indignation on her face. “There’s something I’d like to show Enjolras – somewhere as special to me as this place is to him, but I don’t want to be home too late. My daughter likes it when I tuck her in,” he explained, pleased as her face began to soften.

“Your daughter?” she asked.

Grantaire nodded. “Joan. She’s six, so as you can imagine, I haven’t been on many dates in a while.”

Madame Hucheloup nodded fiercely. “Wait here,” she instructed, kitchen door swinging closed as she busied herself in the kitchen. When she reappeared, she had an entire cake boxed up for him.

“Here.” She shoved the box into his hands.

“I couldn’t,” Grantaire said. “Really, it’s fine if we just take what we have.”

“No,” she said firmly. “This is for you, and Enjolras, and for your daughter. _No_ ,” she said again, when Grantaire tried to give her cake back.

She pushed him towards the table, where Enjolras was watching them with interest.

“What’s that?” Enjolras asked as they joined him.

“An entire cake,” Grantaire said. “I asked if we could take our food to go, and now I have an entire cake.”

“And these.” Madame Hucheloup took two to-go coffees from a nearby waiter, and gave them to Enjolras. “Now go. Show him.” She smiled at Grantaire.

“But – ” Enjolras tried to resist as she all but lifted him out of his seat, shooing them towards the door. “I haven’t paid yet.”

Madame tutted. “Enjolras,” she said. “You know by now that your money is no good here.”

“Mère,” Enjolras said.

“No,” she answered as they reached the door. “Go. You have places to be.” She kissed his cheeks noisily. “But come back soon.”

“Yes Mère,” Enjolras muttered, knowing that there was no winning this argument.

She turned her attention to Grantaire. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“And you,” he answered.

“You come back soon too,” she said. “Bring your daughter.”

Grantaire smiled. “She’d love that. I will.”

Madame Hucheloup nodded, satisfied. “Good,” she said, before waving them out the door.

“That was… rushed,” Enjolras commented as they walked back to the car.

“I may have mentioned something about wanting to take you somewhere before I had to get home to tuck my daughter in,” Grantaire told him. “Well it’s not like it’s a _lie_ ,” he defended himself. “I do want to take you somewhere, and I wouldn’t mind being home to tuck Joan in.”

“You want to take me somewhere?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shrugged, acting nonchalant. “If you want to go,” he answered.

“Alright,” Enjolras agreed. “We’re going. But you’re not driving.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m an _excellent_ navigator,” Grantaire beamed.

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he opened his door. “Get in the car,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Grantaire directed Enjolras through a maze of back roads, stopping him beside a small shopping centre.  

“Come on,” he said, already halfway out of the car.

“An art shop?” Enjolras asked, the answer to his question coming to him as he asked. “ _Your_ art shop.”

Grantaire grinned proudly as he unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. “It’s not much,” he said, switching on the lights. “But I thought since you took me to your restaurant, I should show you this place.”

He swung himself up onto the counter, talking as Enjolras walked around the store, taking in as much of the place – as much of Grantaire – as he could.

“I used to work here, before Joan,” he said. “My friend Jehan was the manager. It was the only place I liked working, so it was the only place I didn’t mess around and get fired from. The owner retired about a year after Joan was born – it was supposed to be turned into a Starbucks, or a Subway, or something, but Jehan convinced me to buy it with him, and now here we are.” He spread his arms wide, encompassing the store. “My very own half an art shop.”

“I thought you had two,” Enjolras said, hopping up onto the counter beside him.

Grantaire nodded. “We expanded a few years ago and bought a store across town, but this is the original.”

Enjolras shuffled closer to him so that there was no space between them. Both men were acutely aware of the other pressed up against their body, and neither one of them wanted to move away.

“Do you like it?” Enjolras asked.

“You know, I really do,” Grantaire told him. “I mean, if I can’t make art for a living, selling people the tools to make their own art is a pretty great substitute.”

Enjolras kissed him. It wasn’t anything over the top, just a simple press of his lips against Grantaire’s, but it was enough.

Grantaire looked awed as Enjolras pulled away reluctantly.

“What was that for?” Grantaire asked. “Not that I’m complaining,” he was quick to add.

“You’re just a really good person,” Enjolras told him, staring into his hazel eyes. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Grantaire’s cheeks had started to ache from smiling. In response, he leaned over and kissed Enjolras – soft, and sweet, and hopeful. “So am I.”

“We should be going though,” Enjolras said reluctantly, glancing down at his watch. “If you want to be back in time to say goodnight to Joan.”

“Trust me,” Grantaire said. “She won’t be in bed before she’s had a chance to grill me about tonight. But you’re right,” he sighed. “It is getting late.”

* * *

 

“So correct me if I’m wrong,” Grantaire said, making small talk as Enjolras drove him home. “But was that more intense than a normal first date should be?”

Enjolras laughed. “You don’t usually meet a guy’s mother figure and discuss your past on a first date?”

“I was talking about the pasta, actually,” Grantaire said. “I’m still thinking about it, to be honest.”

Enjolras punched Grantaire in the arm as they stopped at a red light. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Grantaire challenged.

Enjolras stayed quiet, blushing as his mind raced with all the possible ways he could try to accept that challenge. “Maybe next time,” he managed to get out.

Grantaire smiled slyly over at him. “Does that mean I get a second date?”

“If you like,” Enjolras said as the car came to a stop in front of Grantaire’s house.

The uncertain awkwardness they’d both felt at the beginning of the night returned as they exited the car and walked to the door. This time, it was Enjolras who broke the silence.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he said nervously as they climbed the steps. “I know it’s kind of…difficult, with Joan, and me being her teacher, but… I’d like to do it again, if you – ”

Grantaire cut him off with a kiss, strong hands wrapping around his waist to bring him in closer.  “I’d love to,” he said breathlessly when they broke apart. “And now, because I’m certain my friends and my daughter are at the door waiting for me,” he said quietly, so they wouldn’t hear. “I’m going to say goodnight.”

Enjolras smiled. “Good night. Oh, wait.” He ran back to the car and returned quickly with the cake. “You have no idea how much trouble I’d be in if you forgot this.”

Grantaire laughed. “Thanks. I’ll call you,” he promised, giving Enjolras a parting wink as he let himself into the house.

* * *

 

Cosette, Marius and Joan scrambled out of the doorway guiltily, though they wore identical grins.

“You should be in bed,” was the only thing he said, directed at Joan as he walked straight past the trio and upstairs.

“Come on!” Marius protested on behalf of all of them. “You have to give us _something_.”

Grantaire paused at the top of the stairs and turned to them. “He’s very nice, I had a very nice time, and I’ll probably see him again. That’s all you’re getting.”

Ignoring the rest of their protests, he continued to his bedroom, smile stuck to his face as he changed and crawled into bed, already looking forward to the next time he’d see Enjolras.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoy this kinda gay nerd content please consider [buying me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/A507ZD8)


End file.
